


All the Way Home

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: After saving the world, Aziraphale asks Crowley to drive him to somewhere quieter than London, a place of respite where they can figure out what this new world means for them both.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	All the Way Home

Once upon a time, the world nearly ended. But it didn’t.

And once upon a time, early on a morning no more than a day and a night after the world didn’t end, an angel in Soho stared out his bookshop’s wide windows at a bustling street of cars with impatient drivers, a crowded pavement full of People In A Hurry, and he wished that he were somewhere else.

“Somewhere outside the city,” Aziraphale said when Crowley answered his morning summons, arriving inside the closed bookshop at record speed. “I’d like to go where there aren’t so many buildings and people and noise. Would you drive?”

Both of Crowley’s eyebrows shot up at that request. “You _want_ to be a passenger in my car? On the _motorway?”_

That did bear pondering. His dear friend did so love to drive far too fast. But Aziraphale needed to escape the city, if only for a time—and he didn’t know how to drive. “Yes. Though, may I ask if you could possibly not go over the speed limit, please?”

Crowley’s enthusiasm deflated. “Takes all the fun out.” He leaned against the old rolltop desk, twirling his sunglasses round in one hand. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale stood in the center of the shop, hands clasped, looking at Crowley but not really seeing him, or anything else. “Just _away_. Somewhere quieter. Without buildings and cars and people.”

“Right. Middle of the ocean sound nice?”

“What?” 

“It’s a joke, Angel.” Crowley shoved himself off the desk to cross the short distance between them. “What’s wrong?” He reached out his hand, but then dropped it abruptly. “You’re in a strange mood.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” He didn’t know what was wrong, he only knew that a quiet place was where he wanted to be right now. “I want to be someplace simpler. Without distractions.” So that he could do what? Reflect? Was that what he needed—a peaceful place where he could think over what had just happened to his whole world?

They had worked together to save the Earth, which should have made him feel joyful beyond measure and yes, it did do that—but Aziraphale had also been called to personal destruction for that very act, saved only by a centuries-old prophecy. Heaven had tried to destroy him. He was an _angel_ , and _Heaven_ had turned against him—for nothing more than the crime of loving the world. 

And Crowley—the one who had stood beside him in that act—the one friend who had stood beside him for six thousand years—was the same friend he had spurned and denied, and had nearly lost to the stars, for nothing more than the crime of loving an angel.

There was something he needed to figure out, about his new place in this world, and about his place with Crowley.

Aziraphale reached out to touch his friend’s arm. “You can drive fast if you want to, my dear.”

Crowley stared blankly at the hand on his sleeve. He swallowed, nodded, and said, “That’s all right, Angel. I don’t need to.” Then he broke the contact to retrieve his phone from his jacket pocket. “Must be something within a couple of hours from here. Without people, that is.”

“A woods, perhaps. Or a marsh. A natural place, a wilderness area?”

Crowley spent a few minutes tapping and scrolling on the phone. “There’s a nature reserve in Leicestershire, about two hours north. Rutland Water. It’s a marsh with trails. And birds.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“How long are we going to be gone—or do you know?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Sorry, it may not be only one place I need to go. I’m just not sure.”

“Best take some food along, then.” Crowley put his phone away. He smiled softly. “Maybe a few bottles of something drinkable?”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale strode off towards the back room. “I’ll get a hamper, we can fill it at the deli down the block, and the wine shop.”

And so they were off, without much of a real plan, nor any idea when they would return. It was a most peculiar road trip, taken by an angel and a demon, once upon a time.

*

Crowley drove the speed limit. His best friend was in a peculiar mood, and he could feel waves of unease coming from the passenger seat, and he didn’t need to add to the tension. So he drove sedately along the motorway, heading steadily northwards towards some place where he dearly hoped Aziraphale would find some peace.

And perhaps a resolution to an ancient dilemma might await him there as well.

Once upon a time, a demon and an angel met atop an ancient wall, and one of them fell in love at first sight—and hated the feeling.

Every time he met the angel after that, Crowley loved being near him, and he hated not being able to touch him, or to even tell him how he felt. He hated loving someone he could never hold. Who would make such a Hell for him on Earth, one more terrible than the real one below?

Though he got used to it, over time. He had no choice—it was either take what he could get, or go mad. And what he could take, he did, at every chance—a friendly encounter here and there, a smile, a laugh, the sharing of a meal where he could simply stare at his angel. A few drinks now and then, a bit of light, bantering chat, a meeting on a park bench. Every chance he got, Crowley threw himself into the shallows of love again and again, while yearning to drown in the deepest waters. Forbidden waters—and yet he returned over and over, and he told himself that the shallows were _good enough_ , better than nothing, and yet—and yet—

“Are you hungry, my dear?” Aziraphale’s soft voice broke into his thoughts.

They had been on the road for just one hour, and he wasn’t hungry, but Crowley imagined the question to be an excuse for a certain peckish angel to dig into the hamper. “What have you got?”

“A bit of brie on a cracker?” Aziraphale twisted round to rummage through the hamper on the back seat. “Or perhaps a few grapes?” 

“Grapes.” 

Aziraphale ate his cheese and crackers, while occasionally popping a grape into Crowley’s mouth.

He enjoyed the sweet juice yet found the act of being handfed a tad distracting, and was relieved when it stopped.

The snack seemed to calm Aziraphale. “I’m sorry for earlier,” he said. “It’s good of you to indulge this whim of mine. It must have sounded a peculiar request.”

Crowley focused on the road. “We’ve had a frantic week, Angel. Maybe we could both use a rest.”

He felt a gentle hand on his arm. “Thank you for understanding.”

Warmth flowed from that simple touch into his whole body while Crowley’s mind shouted _Not Allowed…_ six thousand years of restraint screamed through his soul and he hated it, wanted to silence that insane, Hellish voice forever. _I want this, damn you_.

He used the excuse of having to shift to shrug off Aziraphale’s hand. “Sorry. Need to change gears.”

Aziraphale sat quietly, watching the road ahead. “Still looks rather busy here. How far are we from the reserve?”

“Halfway there—another hour or so. Should reach it by lunch time.”

They did. After finding a parking spot near a birdwatching center, they dug out two sandwiches and two bottles of water from the hamper, and set off for a stroll. There were trails leading in and around a series of marshy lagoons, and they chose one at random. It was a weekday, without many people about. 

Lots of birds were about, though. The August sun shone from a clear sky, rather hot—Crowley had talked Aziraphale into leaving his coat in the car. In that sky, there were birds—large white and black birds, circling over the water. Suddenly one folded its wings and dove, hurtling through the air. The bird pulled up in a split second just above the water, and with a vivid splash, its huge talons scooped up a fish. Off it flew to a nearby platform atop a pole, where a nest of sticks stuck up. 

“Impressive,” Crowley said. He spied an illustrated sign nearby, and walked over to study it. 

Aziraphale came to stand close beside him, looking over his shoulder.

“Osprey.” Crowley pointed to the picture of the bird of prey. “Only eats fish.”

“Beautiful.” Aziraphale practically had his chin on Crowley’s shoulder. “This is a lovely place.”

They walked on, around the trails, and there were more birds on the water, and he didn’t know what they were but the helpful signs had pictures. Most of them seemed to be coots and moorhens, dark little ducklike birds with lighter bills that liked to swim about in flocks, bobbing up and down as they fed on the underwater plants.

After a half-hour walk, they found a bench and sat down to eat their lunch, and again, Aziraphale nestled up as close as he could to Crowley, their thighs touching. They ate in companionable silence, though Crowley found it hard to fully relax. They weren’t supposed to be this close. The angel wasn’t supposed to touch him so often. Yet everything had changed in one moment of rebellion against Heaven and Hell, and he knew the rules had been overthrown. He just couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it yet—he couldn’t quite believe that they were free, or that Aziraphale wanted to show him what that freedom meant.

They finished their sandwiches, and drank their water, while watching the ospreys dive for fish. A light afternoon breeze wafted through the reeds, and sent soft ripples across the lagoon.

“So, is this helping?” Crowley asked. “Is this what you wanted?”

And then there it was again—the affectionate touch, as Aziraphale lay a hand on Crowley’s thigh. “It’s relaxing, yes. I like watching the birds. I suppose we could have just gone to St. James’s and watched the ducks, but I do think this is better. _Away_ from everything.”

“Good. Watch the birds here as long as you like. It’s fine.” _I should lay my hand on top of his or take it in mine…_ He wanted to, he dearly, deeply wanted to dive like one of those damned free and easy birds soaring above them, into the deep water. _Why not…why not stare down sixty centuries of forced denial…why not break loose at last…._

“Crowley.” It was a whispered name, and the softness of it shook him to the core. Aziraphale’s hand pressed lightly into his thigh. “I know that you love me.”

All he could do was nod his head. _Break me into a million pieces, Angel, with three small words…go on…._

“And I love you.”

Crowley closed his eyes tightly. _Damn Hell, and damn Heaven, too, for holding him in the shallows of affection for so long, for making him fear love._ His Angel had managed to find a way to meet him there at last, and could they now plunge into the depths of love together…could he at least _try_ to find a way?

As he opened his eyes, Crowley put a hand atop his friend’s, and interlaced their fingers. “Aziraphale—what is it you need from me?” 

“Nothing, my dear.” A slight squeeze of fingers against fingers. “Not yet. I am still working things out myself.” A light smile, with eyes full of warmth. “All those centuries that I gave to Heaven—they’ve been weighing rather heavily on me in the past few days. I felt so loyal for such a long time. Obedient and unquestioning.” A hand brushed across his forehead. “It was such a heavy weight, and it doesn’t lift easily.”

Crowley sighed. “I know.”

Aziraphale gazed out across the water. “This is pleasant, yet it’s not _quite_ all that I need, I think. A little farther along the road, perhaps. I’m afraid my pondering hasn’t found a resting place. Would you be amenable to more driving?”

“I’ll go anywhere you like, Angel.” _Always and forever, I want to be wherever you are_.

He let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and they rose from the bench to walk back down the trail to the car park.

*

_What is it that I need?_ Aziraphale pondered as Crowley drove along another roadway, with no set destination in mind. They were heading east, that’s all he knew.

Did he need anything from Crowley? Or from himself, or from the greater world? Aziraphale watched the scenery passing by the window, of green fields at times, of trees lining the motorway at others, or an occasional canal. It was very flat in this region, and he found the landscape soothing.

He couldn’t honestly say where he was headed, or why. No, his dear friend had not said those three words back, but he was an angel—he could sense love, and had sensed it from Crowley for six millennia. So what was he doing out here—what was he searching for in this mindless journeying away from London? Why should it matter where they went…Aziraphale sighed. 

“Penny for your thoughts, Angel. Still working things out in there?”

“Hm. I suppose I am. Where are we now?” They had left Rutland Water around two. He checked his pocket watch—it had just gone four. So they had been driving east now for two hours.

“Almost to the coast. Been seeing signs for Cromer Beach.”

“Ah. That sounds nice.” Although in August on such a sunny day, it would likely be crowded with holiday-goers. 

“Let’s give it a try.”

The beach was indeed full of holidaymakers, but they were crowded round the center near the pier. The sand stretched out quite a long ways, so they walked away from the center, and the farther they went, the fewer people they passed—and those were all headed back towards the main part of the town, perhaps for late tea or early dinner.

They had both miracled up sandals. It was still very warm out, and Crowley had left his jacket in the car, and even Aziraphale had divested himself of both coat and vest. And there was a bottle of wine dangling from Crowley’s hand as he sauntered along.

They walked along the hard-packed sand as gentle waves lapped the shore, and gulls soared overhead. After a long walk, they found a solitary spot. They scouted out a softer bank of sand and plopped down there, both sitting cross-legged. 

Aziraphale gazed out across the sea. Definitely a good place for reflection, and perhaps a little wine wouldn’t hurt, either. 

Crowley snapped his fingers to open the bottle, took a long drink, and passed it over. Aziraphale took a sip, and then another, and then several more for good measure before handing it back. “Lovely.”

Endless water, never-ending waves…never-ending world. He had always known where his place in this world was, and he had always known what his place in Heaven had been, and now, Aziraphale realized as he watched the waves repeat their endless motion from sea to shore, now he no longer knew where he stood, or where he belonged.

There was London, of course. He did adore his bookshop, but was it the place he belonged—what did that mean, to be where one was meant to be, what did it mean—was he only searching for a home? Was that all he needed, after all this time, after being tied to Heaven and Earth by angelic duty, by something that no longer existed—did he only need a true home of his own making? He was free. He could do that. He could let go the weight of six thousand years, and he could ask his best friend to come with him.

“More wine?” Crowley held out the bottle. 

Aziraphale took it, and drank, and his fingers brushed against Crowley’s as he handed the bottle back. “I think there’s one more place we’ll need to go.”

“Today?” Crowley’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Already? We just got _here_.”

“No, it can wait. Let’s just sit here a while. Then perhaps dinner in the town before driving back to London.”

“Fine.” Crowley drank, and then set the bottle down. He uncrossed his legs and drew them up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Is that the last place you need to go then—London?”

“Not quite. There is one more place I—or rather, _we_ —need to find, but it can wait. I know what it is, just not quite where, and we’ll need to look for it together.” He shifted over, closing the short distance between them, and he draped an arm around Crowley’s shoulders. This time, his friend did not find an excuse to turn away from his touch, and Aziraphale felt a great flood of relief. “We’re going to find a home.”

“A home?” Crowley turned his head towards him, one eyebrow quirked. 

“I can tell your mood better when I can see your eyes, my dear.”

Crowley pulled off his sunglasses. His beautiful serpentine eyes were searching his own, looking into him ever so deeply. “What do you mean, a home?”

By that one word, what Aziraphale truly meant was _everything_ , though that was a little hard to explain. So he did his best. “I don’t think you ever belonged in Hell, and I’ve recently come to know that Heaven is, shall we say, less than welcoming to an angel who treasures Earth above it. But we both spent thousands of years believing otherwise, until those bonds broke apart around us. So what do we have now?”

“London? My flat, your bookshop?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Those were merely placeholders, of a sort. They were the best we could do under the circumstances—buildings we could reside in, close to each other, but not too close, and not nearly as close as we wanted to be.”

Crowley stared at him with eyes that were glistening now. Then he raised one finger to Aziraphale’s face, touching his cheek, and did not say a single word.

“What we have now,” Aziraphale said, “is each other, freely—for the very first time. I had no idea how to handle this, and neither did you. It’s extraordinary because it’s so _new_. What we need is a new place, away from all the memories, away from the past when we weren’t who we wanted to be. I think we need that, so we can figure out _us_.” He took hold of Crowley’s hand and pressed the palm to his lips. “Yes?”

Those were tears brimming in his friend’s eyes. “I love you,” Crowley said, his voice shaky. “I’m just—it’s just—you’re taking us into the deep water.” Then Crowley smiled. “I don’t know how to swim, Angel.”

“Neither do I.” Aziraphale shook his head as he let go Crowley’s hand. “But I don’t care. Let’s drown together, shall we?” He pulled Crowley closer than close, and drew him into a kiss.

Once upon a time, a touch between an angel and a demon caused the world to be remade—and even Heaven forgot that this love was _not allowed_. In that moment, as their lips met in perfect harmony, nothing created from love was ever forbidden again, and in that moment, Aziraphale felt all his cares wash away. 

And Crowley let him in, at last, and let a tide of pure affection pull them into the depths of love together, without fear. With one kiss, they found their way to the place where they could be totally free.

After his caress of Crowley’s lips slowly ended, Aziraphale left a trail of soft kisses over his cheeks and down his throat. Then he wrapped an arm round his waist, and rested his head against Crowley’s chest. He released a deep sigh of pleasure, for this was unlike any earthly pleasure he’d ever known. This was heavenly—as heaven ought to be.

He felt Crowley’s fingers stroking through his hair, and glanced up. “I believe we figured out _us_ , my dear.”

Crowley smiled, and for the first time in six thousand years, the subtle hint of sadness—that forbidden _yearning_ which Aziraphale had always seen in Crowley’s smile before—was miraculously gone. “Welcome to the end of the old world, Angel.”

“This is the best one I’ve ever lived in.” How simple it felt, and how beautiful, to live in freedom. As the endless waves washed against the shore, he kissed Crowley again, soft and warm and easy. “Welcome home.”

*

Once upon a time…

…there was a cottage in the countryside, more or less south of London, where an angel and a demon made a home together—where, against all the odds, and against all the rules—they found a way to live happily ever after.


End file.
